TOSSED SALAD AND SCRAMBLED MPREGS
by The Plastic Owl
Summary: And I may seem a bit confused, but baby… I've got you pegged.


TOSSED SALAD AND SCRAMBLED MPREGS

As Roz peeked through the wardrobe door slats, she saw Niles put on a wig, and a blue velvet dressing gown. There was a knock on the door, and she tried to quiet her breathing.

"Hello baby," cooed Niles to his mysterious guest.

"IT'S DADDY YOU SHITHEAD. AND WHERE'S MY 1981 VINTAGE CLARET?"

Niles handed Frasier his drink, which he gulped back in one go. The elder Crane brother was wearing a greasy black jacket, slim black jeans and a soiled sports shirt.

"Show it to me."

As Roz still looked on, horrified, Frasier sat back on the couch as Niles sat on a stool in front of him. Niles parted his knees, and Roz knew that his weak pale beanus was on full display.

Frasier fitted a mask over his face and began to breathe in the laughing gas.

"Baby wants to fuck!" he croaked. Niles stuffed some of the blue velvet into his mouth, but it couldn't sate Frasier! He knocked his brother to the ground, and began jackhammering his big breadstick dick into Nile's asshole!

"Hurrr! Hurrrr! Hurr!" Frasier grunted, as Niles wriggled around. Roz couldn't tell if Niles liked it or not. Frasier's eyes bugged out as if they were olives and his skull was a martini glass.

Finally Frasier spurted hot cum into his brother's pulsing tunnel of pleasure. As he came, he screamed to the world… that he was listening.

But alas for Roz, his ears also heard her tiny fart of fear. As Niles begged for mercy, Frasier tossed the brawny brunette over the balcony.

"Whyyyyy?" wailed Niles, hot spermatozoa dripping onto his ankles. Frasier had turned from a pompous radio psychiatrist into a… fucken maniac! First he had bonked Daphne over the head and cooked her in the oven. Then he had pushed his own father down an elevator shaft. Old man Crane was now nothing but a meat splat.

And the remains of Daphne… oh… so horrible. Even now Eddie was watching the two of them with his beady little eyes, licking his hairy chops…

"I did it for Van Gogh," grunted Frasier. He pushed Niles onto the floor, and stepped over his weeping, less superior sibling. He went to the toilet to take a shit. He was about to heave his turds into the bowl when he had a better idea. He bent over and sprayed his sloppy brown waste all over the shower and the tub. He would make Niles clean it up in the morning.

Eddie howled.

[9 MONTHS LATER]

"WHERE'S MY SALAD BITCH. GIMME MY SALAD OR I'M GOING TO ZONK YOU IN THE PECKER."

"Here's your salata papi," said Niles breathlessly, giving Frasier a bowl of grated raw onion with a fig on top. Frasier called the salad Club Spicy. He had tried to make everyone at the radio station enjoy and devour Club Spicy, along with scrambled eggs. They had refused. So he had blown all of their guts out of all their holes. Only Roz escaped. Frasier swore Bulldog's brain had shot out of his asshole.

"Oooooh, papi! I cannot enjoy the delicious Club Spicy as the baby is coming!"

Niles lay back on the couch and panted, spreading his hairy and malnourished legs. Frasier uncorked a bottle of France's finest champagne and then shoved the cork into Niles' toot chute.

"You keep that in until I'm done eatin'," he grunted.

"Papi! Oh, papi!" Niles' weak ankles flopped around and his uterus vibrated as the baby pushed against the cork. Frasier paid no mind, shovelling onion in his mouth in a frenzy.

It became too late! The cork popped out with such force that it dented the wall! Then came the baby! It was incredibly ugly and smelt like the Bronx Zoo!

"Waaaah waaahh oh myyy!" Cried the baby.

"Oh, it's beautiful," breathed Niles. Frasier let out a tender fart of celebration.

"I christen you, Mister Thicc," Frasier announced solemnly.

But then, tragedy struck! With one gulp, Eddie wolfed up Mister Thicc!

"Nooooo! Nooooo!" His asshole still loose and wiggling from the strain of birth, Niles ran to his bedroom and grabbed a shotgun. He put it in his mouth and pulled the trigger. The force of the gunshot blast sent him sailing backwards and off the balcony of the penthouse. He splattered on the pavement below. Bystanders stepped over him on their ways to get lattes, a few only stopping to comment on how incredibly pale the dead man's dingus was.

Frasier decided to hang himself, but there was no noose strong enough to hold his massive head. So instead he followed Niles, jumping off the balcony of the penthouse, his brains scrambling all over the sidewalk. Like eggs.

He had heard the blues a calling… all he'd wanted was a salad…

[FIN]


End file.
